The Broken Road (The Broken Series) (4 page)

I
really enjoyed my date with Al, but I was disappointed the evening had ended on
such a sour note. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the break-in was more
serious than it seemed. I was concerned that the person who took my vehicle
registration now knew which apartment I lived in. I was hoping it was a perfect
stranger. For some reason, that seemed better than the alternative. I was still
fretting over the incident when I tucked Cade under my arm and padded off to
bed.

*
* * * * *

I
took a couple of days off work so I could go skiing at Big Sky and Bridger Bowl
before the snow melted off the mountains entirely. It was early March. Only a
handful of people were wearing jackets, and the snowboarders were carving up
the mountains in shorts.

Charlie
sent me to a leadership training in Kalispell shortly after I returned from the
ski trip. Kimme was supposed to join Justin and me for the training, but she
came down with a stomach bug and had to stay home. Justin and I drove up
together, but we got into a huge fight the second night of the training. I
ended up calling Kimme in tears. I wanted to bail on the training, but Kimme
encouraged me to stay through the third day so I could at least earn my
certificate. I was so angry with Justin that I paid for my own rental car so I
wouldn’t have to ride back home in the same car with him.

I
did everything I could to avoid Justin when I returned home. I holed up in my
office, avoided his office, and drummed up excuses for skipping out on staff
meetings. I also had to give up the gym, since he regularly worked out during the
lunch hour and after work. Thankfully, the days were getting longer, the
temperatures were hovering in the mid-sixties, and most of the snow had melted
off Mount Helena. I was thrilled when I could finally start hiking again.

The
fellowship application still niggled at the back of my brain every once in a while,
but I tried not to think about it. Instead, I plugged away at my list of things
to do for law school and buried myself in work.

*
* * * * *

“SAVE
ME NOW.” I scribbled those three desperate words on a piece of paper, then held
it up. I was waiting for Charlie to notice it from his office across the hall.
He was stuck on the same conference call I was on, only he was shooting his
Nerf gun at the ceiling and watching the bullets drop. I eyed him enviously.
I
wish I had a Nerf Gun.
I wouldn’t be shooting it at the ceiling, though.
I’d be shooting it at my head.

Why
did talking to the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services always have to be
so painful?
Of course, it wasn’t like I was really
talking. The staff at CMS never let us get a word in edgewise. This annoyed me
to no end. If they allowed us an opportunity to speak, they might gain a better
understanding of the challenges facing low income elderly people. I sat and
contemplated the problems surrounding federal bureaucracy instead of listening
to the voice droning in my ear.
That’s precisely what I’d do if I landed
that fellowship,
I thought.
I’d enlighten the feds about the issues
facing the elderly in rural areas.

Ann
popped her head into my office. “Kri, you need to answer your other line.”

I
rolled my eyes and pointed at the phone. “C-M-S,” I mouthed as my eyes slid to
the phone to make sure I was still on mute.

She
scowled at me. “Put them on hold. The John Heinz Foundation is on the other
line.”

The
phone hit my desk just before my jaw did.

“Hurry!”
she exclaimed excitedly.

I
scrambled to pick up the phone. I hit the hold button, then pushed the button
for Line 2. Taking a deep breath, I answered, “Senior and Long Term Care,
Kristine speaking.” My eyes sought Ann’s, but she was already gone. Charlie,
however, was staring straight at me with a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

He
scribbled on a piece of paper with a black Sharpie pen. Then he held the sign
up for me to read.

I
TOLD YOU SO.

Charlie
set the sign back down. He propped his feet up on his desk and reclined back in
his chair with a smug look on his face.

I
shot him the stink eye.

The
phone call took less than three minutes, just long enough to schedule a phone
interview. If I did well in the phone interview, the foundation would fly me to
DC to interview in person. As soon as the call ended, I buried my head in my
hands, completely oblivious to the call still holding on Line 1.

*
* * * * *

An
hour later, I was pulled over on the side of the road, pounding my head against
the steering wheel. My jeep had stalled in traffic, and now I couldn’t get it
to move.
What the heck?
I picked up my cell phone to call Dan. “Dan, are
you busy?”

“Never
too busy for you, sweetheart. What’s up?”

I
stared at the darkening sky.
God, I wish someone would just clone this guy.
Like seriously mass produce him and sell him at Wal-Mart. Well, maybe not
Wal-Mart. That would be insulting. Maybe at Dick’s Sports or Sears… in the tool
section. Better yet, they should sell him in the tool section and the women’s
section, so women were sure to find him. What girl didn’t need a Dan?

“Krissy?”
Dan asked, snapping my thoughts back into place.

“Yes.
I’m sorry. I’m stranded near the corner of Sanders and Broadway. My jeep’s not
working. The engine’s running but it won’t move when I put it in drive or
reverse. Do you have time to come take a look at it?”

“I’ll
be right there.” Dan disconnected the call without saying goodbye.

Within
minutes, I heard the deep rumble of Dan’s bike. I should have been surprised to
see Dan on his bike in early March, but I wasn’t. A warm chinook wind had
ushered in unseasonably warm weather, and we were all itching to be done with
winter.

Dan
had always been one to go against the grain, so he shunned the stereotypical
Harley most Vietnam Vets preferred to ride. I watched in my rear view mirror as
he eased his black Honda Shadow behind me. He removed his helmet, kicked the
stand down with his heel, and sidled up to my jeep. He was wearing faded blue
jeans, black combat boots, and a black POW MIA bomber jacket, which was covered
in patches. His unruly blond hair, deliberate steps, and lithe form always
carried a hint of danger. He reminded me of a mountain lion... lethal but with
an easy grace. Dan leaned against my open window and smiled. “Hi-ya, darlin’. You
okay?”

I
swallowed against the lump in my throat as my eyes welled with tears.

Dan
sighed sympathetically. “Oh, Krissy. Lock up and grab your keys.” He handed me
Kimme’s candy apple red helmet, which I couldn’t help but notice was the same
color she wore on her nails most days. Let’s take your keys over to my friend
Rick’s shop. He’ll come back for the jeep. He’ll take good care of you. I
promise.” Dan’s promise was as good as gold. As one of the youngest men to
serve in Vietnam, he was a bit broken but a hero in every sense of the word.

As
I tugged Kimme’s helmet on and slid behind Dan on the bike, I wondered who was
going to take care of me if I moved to DC. Dan was like my knight in shining
armor. Well, if I were being completely honest, Dan wasn’t exactly
my
knight in shining armor. He was Kimme’s knight in shining armor, but she was
really good about sharing him with me. I tried not to abuse the privilege too
much. But it was nice to know someone cared and was willing to help when I was
blindsided by those rare damsel-in-distress moments.

As
Dan pulled away from the curb, he wrapped my arms around his chest and patted
my hand. I couldn’t be sure whether it was the impending interview, my jeep
breaking down, or having to be rescued by Dan yet again, but I suddenly found
myself overwhelmed with tears.

*
* * * * *

Kimme
was supposed to pick me up for work the next morning. Dan showed up instead. Tension
rolled off him in waves when I greeted him at the door.

My
eyes widened when I got a good look at his face. “Dan… are you okay?” He did
not look okay.

“I
will be after I kill the MF who messed with your jeep,” Dan gritted through
clenched teeth.

“What
do you mean ‘messed with my jeep?’” I threw finger quotes around the last four
words.

“I
mean ‘messed with your jeep.’ Someone drilled holes in your transmission pan so
all of the fluid would leak out. Someone wanted you stranded.” Dan’s hands were
fisting and unfisting. He looked like he was about ready to blow a gasket.

My
eyes traveled from his fists to his face as his words sank in. “Oh, God. I
think I’m going to…” I slapped my hand over my mouth and ran to the bathroom. I
heaved into the toilet, then sat and contemplated the cleanliness of the tile
on my bathroom floor while I gathered the energy to push myself back onto my
feet. I brushed my teeth and splashed cold water on my face before returning to
the living room.

Dan
was pacing restlessly across the living room floor. He stilled when I entered
the room. “Who was it Krissy? Garcia or Campbell?” He always referred to
Michael and Tom by their last names. I wondered if that was a military thing.

I
swallowed. Hard. “God, I don’t know, Dan. I don’t think Tom knows where I live.
Michael does, but Michael doesn’t strike me as the type who can operate a
screwdriver, let alone drill holes in my transmission. Tom is a mechanic… a
transmission
mechanic.”

My
heart tripped, then slammed into my chest. My eyes met Dan’s. “Oh, God. What if
Tom has finally found me? What if he knows where I live? He threatened to kill
me when I left.” I didn’t doubt he would... not for one minute. I glanced around
my apartment frantically.
What if he broke into my apartment?

A
determined look settled over Dan’s face. “Pack your shit, Krissy. You’re moving
back in with us.”

“Dan,
I can’t keep…” I choked down a sob. I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“You
can and you will. This isn’t optional. Go. Pack.” Dan snatched Cade from the
couch and strode determinedly out the front door.  

I
pulled the suitcase from the back of the closet and loaded it up with a random
assortment of clothes. I grabbed my makeup, perfume, and toothbrush from the
bathroom, then hauled my suitcase to the living room. I dropped onto my hands
and knees so I could dig Cade’s ball out from under the couch.

Dan
was on the phone talking to Charlie. “I’ll have her there in an hour, but you talk
to security and make sure everyone in that building knows about this. I don’t
want Garcia or Campbell anywhere near that place; and I want security walking
her in and out of that building.” He paused, eying me closely. “I don’t want
her so much as taking a pee without an escort.”

My
fingers tightened around the blue racquetball. I rose to my feet and narrowed
my eyes at Dan, weighing whether to argue that last point.

Dan
scowled as he widened his stance.

I
huffed out a breath as I shoved the racquetball into my suitcase. I reined in
my retort as I handed the suitcase to Dan. There was no arguing with that look.

I
was working through my fourth cup of coffee, pen rapping against my desk, right
heel tapping against the floor. My eyes flitted to the clock. Ten twenty-eight…
two minutes until my interview. I gave myself a quick attitude check.
Morbid
curiosity, tempered with a healthy dose of impending doom.
Probably not the
best attitude going in. My heart was already pounding against my chest.

The
phone buzzed on my desk, snapping my frayed nerves back into place. It was now
or never. Do or die. Taking a deep breath, I answered, “Senior and Long Term
Care, Kristine speaking….”

I
was only ten minutes into the interview when I heard a commotion in the hallway.
I glanced up to find my colleagues running, not walking, past my door. I craned
my neck to peer down the hall. My attention slid back to the phone when I noticed
the line had suddenly grown quiet. “I’m sorry, can you repeat the question?” I
cringed.
That’s going to leave a good impression.

I
swiveled my chair so that my back was facing the door and the interior windows,
so I could focus on the call. One of the interviewers, Julianne, repeated the
question. “Kristine, what type of legislation would you want to work on if you
were granted the fellowship position and why?”

Oh,
that’s an easy one.
I took a deep breath and answered. “I
would like to work on getting the Older American’s Act reauthorized. There are
key services that are desperately needed by low income elderly, which will be
compromised if the Act isn’t reauthorized. I would also like to work on
legislation that would allow for early buy-in to Medicare. There are too many
people over the age of 50 being denied insurance coverage who aren’t old enough
to qualify for Medicare. Insurance companies are cherry picking and denying
coverage due to preexisting conditions. Many of these people are simultaneously
being squeezed out of their jobs and losing employer sponsored health coverage.
They are being replaced by a younger, cheaper workforce. They have no way to
access health coverage, and they are just one health crisis away from complete
poverty.”